Authors: Sandra Kitt
When Jason awoke two hours later, Leah was in the kitchen thinking about food and dinner. It required a lot of ingenuity since he apparently didn’t see the need to keep more than beer on hand. It was a moment before Leah realized that Jason was awake and silently watching her.
“Hi, Jay Eagle,” she smiled. She sat next to him on the platform bed. “You must be getting old. Can’t make it through a whole day without taking a nap.”
He grinned slowly at her.
“Look, the best I can do about dinner on short notice is an omelet. Do you like omelets? I hope so ’cause you have plenty of eggs. And beer. Do you eat like this all the time? White men don’t cook either, eh? You should be dead, you know, with a diet like yours.”
Jason suddenly took Leah by the arms and pulled her clear over his body onto the bed next to him. She let out a small surprised yelp, and Jason laughed lightly.
“Be quiet,” he whispered, and kissed her.
Leah curled up against him as his lovemaking became gentle and lazy. She decided that she needed to stop worrying. She was just afraid to let herself feel so happy.
As Leah sat at her drafting table in front of the window, she could hear the occasional gusts of wind whipping through the canyons between the buildings near the river. It was no longer necessary to wear wool and corduroy and knits and boots. It was the end of April, and she was impatient for summer and the freedom it provided. Winter had made her feel too confined, although it meant private time with Jason. The winter had also been connected to some of the most spiteful and intrusive criticisms of their relationship that either she or Jason had ever had to endure.
Leah got up from her worktable and put away her artwork. It was almost five o’clock and she was ready to leave. But she wasn’t ready to go home. Leah wandered into Jill’s office, a small, cluttered cubicle at the end of the studio, and found her also preparing to leave. Jill turned to her and smiled.
“Hi. Leaving?”
Leah nodded. She played with the strap of her bag. “Got plans for tonight?”
Jill shook her head with a grin. “Nope. And I can tell neither do you. Want to go for dinner or a drink?”
“A drink would be fine,” Leah said.
Jill raised her brows. “This must be serious.”
Leah laughed nervously. “It’s not. I just thought it would be nice to chill out and gossip.”
“Ooooh. I’m all for that.”
They went to a small café that was a favorite hangout with people from the office. But Leah was just as happy that she and Jill were able to find a table in the back of the room, away from the noisy front bar. They’d already had a few good laughs over Mike Berger, and shared knowledge about an office affair, when Leah turned the questions on Jill.
“How is it going?” Leah asked.
“How is what going?”
“You and Peter?”
“Oh. Okay, I guess.”
“That’s it? Just okay?”
Jill shrugged. “Well, you know how it is with men. Up and down and then up again.”
“Yeah. But does that mean it’s not working out?”
Jill grimaced and hedged. “It means we’re working on it. It means,” she sighed, “I’m trying to decide if I’m doing the right thing, being with this man.”
Leah felt that Jill was talking for both of them. Everything was changing. Everyone was changing. Maybe it was spring fever. Maybe minerals in the tap water. Swamp gas.
“But don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re pretty dreamy yourself,” Jill said speculatively.
Leah laughed nervously. Had everyone noticed?
“Me?”
“Yep. You have the breathless, awed look of someone in or about to be in love.”
“Well, I’m not in love …” Leah said nervously.
“You … don’t love Allen?” Jill asked, ignoring the firm statement. She scrutinized Leah through narrowed eyes. “You haven’t said a word about Allen in weeks. What’s going on?”
Leah’s smile was furtive. “Nothing. We’re not dating anymore.”
“You’re not? You mean you two broke up and you never even said anything?”
“I was a little preoccupied at the time,” Leah said dryly. “And I felt funny just walking in one day and announcing, Allen and I have broken up.”
Jill shook her head in surprise. “How come? Did he meet someone else?”
Leah hesitated. “Yes.”
“And what about you? How did that make you feel?”
“Well, the truth is … I met someone else, too.”
Jill’s brows shot up. “How convenient. Which came first?”
Leah thought about it but decided it was too complicated to track. And it didn’t matter. December was a long time ago. She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just happened.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve been seeing someone new and probably exciting, and you never said anything?”
Leah sighed and swirled the ice in the bottom of her Drambuie. “Well, it’s been a little difficult.”
“Oh. Not working out, eh?”
“No, that’s not it. Jason and I are fine. I mean, I think we’re okay, It’s just that … well, he’s white and—”
“White?” Jill interrupted blankly, as if the concept didn’t register. “You mean he’s …”
“White,” Leah said, watching the other woman. Jill simply stared at her. And then she lowered her gaze to her glass and seemed unable to speak.
“Oh,” Jill said quietly.
Leah felt uneasy with the reaction. “You said that.”
Jill looked at Leah finally, but her expression was a little guarded, her eyes questioning. “How come?”
Leah frowned. “Excuse me?”
“How did it happen?”
Leah still wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly, and was now uncomfortable with Jill’s reaction to the news. “What do you mean, how did it happen? We met, liked each other, and he started asking me out.”
Jill’s mouth tightened and Leah realized that she’d never considered the possibility that her co-worker and friend would disapprove. Suddenly, she might just as well have been sitting opposite a complete stranger. Which made the situation suddenly so unreal. She and Jill knew each other. It seemed odd that they should work so closely, so long together, and Leah had never suspected that Jill might have a bias or two that would surface and come between them.
Jill shrugged. “I don’t know what to say.”
Leah pushed her glass aside. She’d had enough of the sweet liqueur. “I think you’ve already said it. You don’t approve, do you?”
Jill laughed nervously, smoothing her hair behind an ear. “I guess I’m just shocked.”
“Why?”
“Because … because you’re just asking for trouble. I mean, why make things so difficult?”
“What is it you don’t like, Jill? That Jason asked me out or that I said yes?”
Jill got over her initial shock and stared at Leah. “Look, I’m sorry, but I just think it’s a mistake. What are you trying to prove?”
Leah was disappointed. There had been no one she could openly talk to about her relationship with Jason. She’d hoped that Jill would just have been a friend and listened.
“I guess that it’s possible for two people to really like each other and color not be an issue. Like you and Peter, we’re just trying to work out an honest relationship. Jason and I are fine with it. It’s everyone else in the world that’s getting on our case.”
“Leah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so hard, but … do you really think it’s going to work?”
“I don’t know if it will or won’t. But it would have been nice to have someone say, I hope it does. I’ll get this. I have to get home.”
Leah reached for the bill on the table as Jill stared open-mouthed at her. Before she could gather her wits, Leah was already slipping into her blazer and gathering her tote and purse.
“Leah, wait. Let me try to explain how I feel.”
Leah turned on her. “Jill, I already know how you feel. But this isn’t about you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that Leah hurried toward the front of the café. She had paid the bill and left before Jill had a chance to catch up to her.
Leah guessed she should have known better. She had, back at the beginning. At the moment, however, she was perilously close to caring for a New York City cop named Jason Horn far more than could possibly be good for her. She was, all at once, both miserable and happy. Happy with the time spent with him. Incredulous with how good they seemed together. Miserable because it had no place to go. And everyone was telling her so.
“You are so comfortable,” Jason had said recently to her. “You make me feel like I do everything right.”
But there was more to a relationship that just making love. Sometimes Leah would allow herself a daydream in which a future presented itself with Jason. But it was always confused and unreal. Pointless, because she couldn’t see an ending. Frightening, because she was sure she didn’t want to.
Leah stood a dozen yards or so beyond the finish line. The small area was already busy with people waiting for the first of the runners to arrive. There were time keepers and park officials, a waiting medical unit—just in case—folding chairs and cots, and a table set up with cups of Tang, Gatorade, and water.
Leah kept out of the way and hid behind her sunglasses, protecting her anxiety and annoyance. The anxiety was because she knew Jason was really too tired to have run the race this Sunday morning. It would have made more sense for him to have slept in late, especially after what he’d called one hell of a night. The annoyance she hadn’t gotten around to examining yet. And she’d had no luck convincing herself that she’d overreacted to Jason’s canceling of their date the night before.
She scanned the distance, down the path and between the spring-leafed trees, looking for the runners in the Prospect Park May Day 10K. A sudden cheer went up, and Leah shifted her attention from the phone conversation with Jason the previous night to the sight of runners approaching the end of the race. She spotted him in the first group, his Day-Glo orange entry bib visible with the number twenty-four printed front and back. She forgot about all other considerations except that Jason had made it. Joy and worry surged in her chest. He was going to finish eighth.
Leah waved to Jason, hoping to mark her position, but she didn’t think he’d seen her as several officials reached him to note his number and finishing time on a chart, to ask how he was feeling. She felt another rush, this one of pride. He wasn’t even winded although Leah had noticed an almost imperceptible limp. She watched as Jason conversed with a volunteer as he was handed several items. He accepted a cup of Gatorade, and shook out the long, muscular leg that apparently troubled him.
She gathered up his sweat top and red cap, her tote, and started forward through the growing crowd.
“Jason,” Leah called out.
He glanced up quickly and his eyes searched her out. He grinned and gave Leah a thumb’s-up sign. The other emotion she’d been grappling with since late the night before disappeared.
The finish line area was now packed with runners, their friends and families, as Leah walked toward Jason. Then she heard his name called out in a feminine voice, and saw a young woman suddenly emerge in front of Jason, and the two of them embraced.
Leah stopped where she was, watching the encounter and feeling like she was witnessing the union of an old relationship. The woman, also dressed as a runner, hugged Jason as they laughed together over the coincidence of their meeting. She was a brunette with a lithe build that bespoke fitness. She was lively and attractive, and she spurred to life within Leah, as she watched the two of them, a sudden rise of apprehension.
Jason finally looked around for Leah and, seeing her, beckoned her forward. She came to stand next to him, a smile coming automatically to her lips. She was again glad for the shield the dark glasses provided. Jason put a damp arm around her shoulders.
“Leah, this is Cindy Walken.”
“Cindy Walken-
Schott
. Hi, Leah.” Cindy smiled, and they shook hands.
Leah found her grip firm and forthright. She seemed very friendly.
“Cindy used to be on the force,” Jason informed Leah.
“Emphasis on the used to,” Cindy laughed.
“Why did you quit?” Leah spoke up.
Cindy looked briefly at Jason and shrugged. “It was crazy. I decided to go back to school and study law. I think I’d rather prosecute than arrest. It’s a lot safer.”
Jason squeezed Leah’s shoulder. “Cindy’s husband worried about her, but she can take care of herself.”
“Thanks, Jason.” Cindy nodded, somewhat surprised by his observation.
“How did you place in the race?” Leah asked, already impressed with the other woman’s vitality.
“Fifteenth,” she announced happily. She poked Jason in the ribs. “Kept up with you big guys.”
Jason grinned at her. “Told you you could take care of yourself.”
“Congratulations,” Leah murmured.
“Thanks. Look, I’d better go find my husband. It was nice seeing you, Jason. You’re looking good. Nice meeting you,” she said to Leah and waved as she walked away.
Leah put her arm around Jason’s waist. It was a possessive move, one meant to connect them physically for the moment. One meant to dispel the sometimes ephemeral feel of their relationship, when Jason was involved in other areas of his life that she couldn’t take part in. What they shared was substantial, and because it was Leah found herself trying to divine the future beyond the physical joy they both claimed and enjoyed in each other.
Jason was sweaty and warm. He smelled hot and male. Virile. Leah suddenly smiled secretly to herself, finding his vigor stimulating. She heard him sigh.
“Fifteenth. And I thought I was running at a good clip. Man, she’s in great shape.”
Leah kept her voice smooth. “She’s also about ten years younger.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jason chuckled good-naturedly.
“How’s your knee?” she asked as they walked and separated from the milling crowds.
“Okay. I think I pulled it a bit on the last mile.”
“Will an ice pack help?”
“A cold beer sounds better, but the ice won’t hurt.”
“Let’s get you home,” she said.
“Great. I’m beat,” he groaned.
She glanced at him again. His face was only slightly flushed, but perspiration gleamed from his forehead, arms, and shoulders. Under the running bib, which he now removed and discarded, his tank shirt was soaked, and his chest hair was matted to his skin.